


Soldier Island

by MarrishxMe



Category: And Then There Were None (TV 2015), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Agatha Christie - Freeform, And Then There Were None - AU, Angst, Drama, Eventual Bromance, Eventual OTP, Eventual Romance, Eventual trust, F/M, Fluff, Geographical Isolation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Isolation, Jordia, Marrish, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Sex, Sexual Tension, Tension, Tragedy, Tragic ends, alternative universe, attempted humour, otp, period drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarrishxMe/pseuds/MarrishxMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten little Soldier boys journey to Soldier Island off the coast of Devon to face their judgement… rightly so? In this pre-war era of 1939, one by one someone in their very presence delivers their death. When you have no one, and nothing to go to – in utter isolation - who can you trust?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ten little Soldier Boys

**Author's Note:**

> This took me a long time to fully write out properly so it had the right Teen Wolf twist to my favourite Agatha Christie murder mystery! AU - human universe, really hope you guys like it - Kudos, Comments, Bookmarks are greatly received! :) Enjoy!

_Ten little soldier boys went out to dine;_

_One choked his little self and then there were nine._

_Nine little soldier boys stayed up late;_

_One overslept himself and then there were eight._

_Eight little soldier boys travelling in Devon;_

_One said he’d stay there and then there were seven._

_Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks;_

_One chopped himself in halves and then there were six._

_Six little soldier boys playing with a hive;_

_A bumblebee stung one and then there were five._

_Five little soldier boys going in for law;_

_One got in Chancery and then there were four._

_Four little soldier boys walking along the sea;_

_A red herring swallowed one then there were three._

_Three little soldier boys going to the zoo;_

_A big bear hugged one and then there were two._

_Two little soldier boys sitting in the sun_ _;_

_One got frizzled up and then there was one._

_One little soldier boy left all alone;_

_He went and hanged himself and then there were none._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't chapter one, but more of an preface I guess, but i'm new at this so don't know how to change it hahah.


	2. Arrivals and Rivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight guests arrive at the mysterious mansion of the Owen's on Soldier Island, off the coast of Devon, without the faintest idea of what's sure to go awry...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically Chapter 1, the chapters are a little long but i'm hoping you guys will like it as much as I do! comments, kudos and bookmarks greatly appreciated!

She stroked the rough paper between her fingers tentatively, contemplating her options whilst in a frozen beguilement at the rain in her apartment. There was no denying that the summer job of being Mrs U. N. Owen’s secretary was the money she needed for the promise of a better life, but the job was overseas. On an island. Soldier Island to be exact – Lydia Martin does not near the coast. Ever. The once warm memories of the sea turned to ash in her mouth, minutes after that one fateful day. Lydia quickly pushed the thought from her mind vehemently. She turned to her reflection in the water speckled window and sighed,

“You can do this.”

She reprimanded herself whilst trying to encourage herself simultaneously. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

 

* * *

 

Jordan Parrish deliberated his conflicted thoughts on the platform. He didn’t truly know why he was doing this. Sure the money was great but he wasn’t in any desperate need. He knew it would be dangerous, he was quite clearly informed of that in his letter from Mr. U. N. Owen. Ulick was an odd, unpopular name he thought absently. Perhaps he was looking for a reason to occupy himself having never gotten over the loss of his Father and older half-brother in the First World War. He’s always called it the First World War because there’s always a ‘next time’. But he’s always finding a way to occupy his mind. And none the way better than on a hunt; you need focused, sharp senses. The assignment was perfect, Jordan’s instincts were unparalleled. That was until, he came across the baffling beauty of Lydia Martin, having boarded the train to the Devon coast.

 

* * *

 

He scanned over the list of names again once on the train from London to the coast of Devon. The dull yellow light of the sun breaking the cloud bank provided an adequate light for him. Derek had to admit to himself that when he had received the letter from Mr. U. N. Owen he was curious as to why Owen had invited these guests to his home on Soldier Island if they were remotely untrustworthy... He fluttered the paper into a quick fold as he was joined by a man in his carriage and he was grateful he did so when he caught sight of a tag with the name ‘General Jon Stillinski’ on his belongings – he was a ‘guest’ of Mr. Owen’s.

 

* * *

 

He adjusted the rear-view mirror when he heard the deafening roar of an engine close at hand, disturbing his serene drive to the harbour. Everything from that moment slowed until every Nano second felt like hours; Dr. Scott McCall analysed every piece of information from the car that ran him off the road recklessly, narrowly missing the rear end of his car. The driver was young like him, but arrogant and petulant as he laughed whilst he overtook him.

“Hey watch it! You ran me off the road!”

Scott yelled as he was watching the back of the cherry red Jensen disappear into the oak trees tainted by the peachy dusk, which didn’t reflect Scott’s newly directed mood.

 

* * *

 

Isaac took a final drag from his cigarette and flicked it to the cool wet stone of the harbour as he saw a lady approaching. Out of hope he lifted his slate that read ‘Soldier Island’ and recognition lit her eyes and she carefully made her way towards him.

“You must be Miss Martin?”

Her expression turned mildly confused but she nodded anyway and held out her hand to give a firm handshake. She was shortly followed by an irresponsible driver who looked as if he were about to kiss his car goodbye before he sauntered over. He wolf whistled as he removed his aviators, looking Miss Martin up and down. Isaac laughed internally at his foolishness. Lydia, immediately uncomfortable, yanked her skirt over her knees and pulled her jacket together a little tighter over her chest. Isaac held his hand out to the man,

“Isaac Lahey.”

The man wasn’t looking at him when he answered, but Lydia.

“Jackson. Jackson Whitmore.”

As he glanced around the harbour with a look of distaste that irritated Isaac and even Lydia. Isaac awkwardly lowered his hand and picked up their luggage, but he awaited for someone else to arrive before leaving Miss Martin alone with this man. He saw a gentlemen making his way over gracefully and he held up his slate, thanking the lord internally that he made his way over. He took the bags from the three and loaded them onto the boat.

“So where are _you_ from?”

Jackson emphasised the ‘you’ to Lydia in such a manner that it seemed apparently suggestive, bringing back her discomfort.

“London.”

She answered curtly. She turned to the mute behind her whose frown was deep as his eyes penetrated his visors – she knew it wasn’t at her.

“Lydia Martin.”

She held her hand out once more to the man who turned to her with a smile playing on his lips.

“Jordan Parrish.”

He gently took her gloved hand and pecked her fingers making her chuckle. Jackson scoffed and rolled his eyes,

“Oh Jesus.”

Isaac returned, cutting off the sure-to-happen fire of words back and forth. And they were joined by the last two members of the Owen party who arrived by train.

“I hate to cut the meet and greets short but I’ve got a schedule to keep.”

Derek found that an odd comment, being that this harbour was small and seemingly dilapidated and out-dated. But Derek was suspicious of everything, so he brushed it off. Until he realised something else that was off...

“Are we the whole party?”

Derek said, knowing they were meant to be a party of eight, excluding the two staff, Mr and Mrs Raekan.

“No.”

It was all he said as he returned to the boat. When no one followed, hesitant, he called after them,

“Are you coming or not?”

The wind bit at their faces as the sea air weaved around them all. Lydia was stiff as she held her eyes to the island, and not purely because of Jackson so close, his gaze penetrating…

“That’s no way to treat a lady.”

Jordan was irate but tried not to make it too evident, through feeling this Jackson could be tiresome should he want to be. Fortunately, the other men aboard – sans Isaac, who was steering the boat – turned their attention from the island onto Jackson who was only just starting to peel his ogling stare away from Lydia’s legs. Jackson remained silent through some miracle and Lydia gave Jordan a grateful glance. The remaining fifteen minutes of the journey was silent, but it dragged out.

 

* * *

 

Satomi looked out of her window out looking the sea and sighed.

“Mrs Raekan? I’d like to dress into my evening clothes in preparation for dinner this evening.”

Satomi called for Erica, who was already knee deep in work to do.

“One moment madam.”

She replied, knowing she’d do well to keep that unspoken promise to only be a moment before Satomi loses patience. She was already proving to be a very difficult woman to please. And she’s only been here for an hour.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Her husband Theo whispered tersely to her from across the corridor as she was carrying Satomi’s evening wear.

“Miss Satomi wants to be dressed in her evening wear…”

Erica whispered hoarsely, shying away from her husband’s livid glare.

“Well hurry up and be done with it! We’re running out of time!”

Erica hurriedly scuttled to Satomi’s room without another word. Unthinkingly, she entered Satomi’s room and earned a disapproving glance and cough,

“Excuse me Mrs Raekan but it is inexcusable to enter one’s room in quite a manner when it is not your own. Particularly a lady’s room of higher standards than waiting staff, hmm?”

Erica dipped her head,

“Pardon me madam.”

She exited the room as quickly as she entered and knocked lightly.

“Come in.”

Erica entered again trying to slow her pace to relax herself, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand subtly before Satomi turned around to her.

 

* * *

 

Justice Gerard Argent, more commonly known as Judge Argent poured himself a neat scotch.

“Can I get you a drink Doctor…?”

He turned around from the drinks table to the man he’d just met at the harbour.

“McCall, and thank you, but no. I don’t drink.”

Scott sat nearby and was mildly intimidated by the judge, retired from justice now as he’d said and he couldn’t help but wonder why that was exactly… he was middle aged but still fit to man the criminal bench so to speak.

 

* * *

 

“Here, allow me, Miss Martin.”

Jordan carried Lydia’s bags as well as his own. She smiled and shook her head to herself, she wouldn’t have pegged Mr. Jordan Parrish to be the chivalrous type – he was quite reserved and mysterious but above all it made him an intimidating man. Not that that bothered her of course, he wasn’t that way to her.

“Welcome to Soldier Island.”

Theo stood atop the cliff and greeted them from above as they all carried their belongings and met his almost welcoming smile. When they had reached the top of the cliff by the pathway to the house, Isaac abruptly placed the general’s bags on the floor.

“Sorry General, this is as far as my pay goes.”

The apology wasn’t as empty as the explanation but Jon didn’t argue further as Isaac was already trudging in the opposite direction of the house. Jon couldn’t carry these bags alone.

“Tate,”

He was ignored.

“Ahh Tate?”

Derek quickly realised he was being addressed by his cover name. He glanced towards Jon and the array of luggage on the floor and immediately picked up what he could.

“Thanks, sorry. I thought Lahey would at least take ‘em inside.”

Jon rolled his eyes as they continued down the foot path. Isaac watched them walk to the house with a lump in his throat through fear for them. Not wanting to ponder as to why he was paid off to ferry them here but not back, he didn’t know anyone else that would get the job instead, his was the only boat that could make it this far off the mainland from that harbour.

Theo opened the heavy doors to the manor house and turned to the guests,

“Dinner will be served in approximately two hours. We’re expecting Mr and Mrs Owen to join us shortly.”

“What they aren’t already here?”

Jordan said, he was mildly incredulous – not that he was going to show that as dramatically as he knew some of these guests would. Not that he overly cared either, just that he was on quite a surreptitious task being here and his employers weren’t even here to give him any pointers – leaving him to his own discretion. Theo merely shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. It was just out of place, Jordan thought. And his instincts ticked.

 

* * *

 

“I understand that you’re having to do laborious work downstairs in those kitchens Mrs Raekan, but perhaps when you dress the ladies a touch up of perfume? No need to announce it quite so unequivocally.”

Satomi said too sweetly to Erica after she had finally dressed her.

“Yes madam, I beg your pardon madam.”

She ducked her head and awaited to be dismissed, when she was she walked quickly to the bottom of the stairs where her husband was waiting for her along with the final arrivals.

“If the gentlemen would like to follow me to their rooms, Mrs Raekan will escort the lady.”

As the men began filing out after Mr. Raekan, Lydia wondered if she were being treated properly, not improperly as poorly, but too well, she was staff after all.

“Are you sure I haven’t been given any sort of instructions by the Owen’s? I’m Una’s secretory.”

Though her statement wasn’t a question, she raised her voice at the end of her sentence as she spoke to Mrs. Raekan.

“No, madam. Only that you are to be treated as a guest and have what you please, madam.”

Lydia stopped in her tracks. This was supposed to be work? She decided to consolidate her queries with Mrs Owen’s arrival later tonight.

 

“Ahh isn’t the evening sky delectable? How can one not believe in the creator?”

Satomi gestured out the French doors as she stepped on the veranda. Scott stifled a chuckle at her statement. Alongside Derek who outstretched his hand,

“Tate, Derek Tate. I’m a friend of the Owens.”

“Miss Satomi Ito, young man, you’re welcome to call me Satomi.”

“Doctor McCall, feel free to call me Scott.”

He shook her hand benignly, it was quite a thing to allow in this era, to be referred to as simply your first name by a stranger. Argent and Stillinski joined their idle chatter after having walked along near the cliffs reminiscing the war.

 

“How much do you bet one of those oldies will bring up the war at dinner? I bet they still believe they are, in fact, still themselves classed as golden oldies!”

Jackson almost jumped on the sofa as if he owned it as Jordan just kept his expression deadpanned from across the room.

“I’m not one for betting.”

He replied as Lydia walked in moments after, Jackson turned his attention to her and smiled at her as if she were a meal. Fortunately for him, neither one of them noticed this, as she wandered in and Jordan was in awe of her beauty. She could have pulled off dishrags in his opinion.

“Drink, Miss Martin?”

Jordan asked as he rose from his chair, getting himself one. Before she could answer him, Jackson said,

“A pink gin, pink as a virgin’s blush.”

Now Lydia was aware of him and rolled her eyes as she neared Jordan at the drink’s table.

“Do you know any manners Whitmore? Or do you just not exercise them?”

His voice was sarky, but before he could get any backchat from him, his stiff gin was on the table before him within a blink of an eye, so he drank his drink in silence. Jordan looked to Lydia,

“Now, Miss Martin, I never caught what you’d like to drink?”

He smirked and she said,

“Hmm how ‘bout a scotch on the rocks with a twist?”

He hummed in approval,

“Nice choice.” Her returning smile was as beautiful as ever. The General and the Judge returned from their stroll in the drawing room where they were and the judge introduced himself to Lydia and started conversation.

“I’ve had quite a share of my life on criminal law and had been fearless, but I quake in terror at the idea of hockey girls wielding their sticks Miss Martin.” She chuckled a bubbling laughter at his statement.

“They truly aren’t so bad Judge. Perhaps over excited and noisy but.” She smiled warmly.

“Well I’m sure you set a fine example for them Miss Martin.” He said kindly. He was very easy to talk to. She glanced at Parrish who was sat opposite Whitmore seemingly holding onto a fine patience which made her giggle.

 

* * *

 

As they all seated at the grand dining table, almost all noticed the apparent absence of the Owens.

“When did you say you were expecting to be a full house, Raekan?”

General Stillinski asked Theo, who shrugged with a frown,

“By tonight, General Stillinski. That’s all we’ve been informed.”

With that, he whisked away into to below stairs to check on his wife’s cooking. Lydia absently noticed ten, angular yet shapeless figurines of sorts placed in the middle of the table.

“The ten little soldiers.”

She whispered to herself with a smile.

“Ahh like the nursery rhyme, how quaint.”

Judge Argent mused beside her with a smile.

“I’m not at all sure of them really, the look rather… Pagan. Hardly poetry. One of which lies in my room.” Satomi countered,

“I believe the poems are in every room, Miss Ito.” Jordan said matter-of-factly, bemused by her expression when he called it a poem.

“I agree with you Miss Ito, it’s not really a poem.” Derek said. Jordan met his gaze and his eyes flitted away, puzzling Jordan.

“Ha! Well it just shows how wrong first impressions can be! I didn’t know you liked poetry, Tate.”

Satomi was pleased, but before Derek could answer, Jordan mildly teased,

“Tate’s a man with hidden depths.” And he sipped his drink as he met Derek’s gaze, he continued his more apparent façade and smiled back at Jordan.

“I believe we’ve met before, Judge? I can’t place where…”

Scott directed at Gerard, who dismissed him,

“Perhaps you gave evidence before me?” Dr.McCall frowned, it wasn’t that. But he shrugged it off. The conversation stopped when, shortly after having seated, Scott realised why the man across from him who was around his age looked so familiar.

“Do you drive a cherry red Jensen?”

He asked Jackson over the table breaking the more idle chatter.

“Oh you’ve seen her? isn’t she gorgeous – ah which reminds me, Raekan?”

Theo returned in seconds, cutting off Scott’s following accusations.

“Yes sir?”

“Tell that Lahey to keep an eye on my Jensen at the harbour will you? Cherry red in case there are any others, however unlikely that may be.”

“There isn’t a telephone on the island, but I’ll be sure to say so when he ferries in the supplies for tomorrow in the morning.”

Jackson frowned but dismissed him nevertheless.

“You ran me off the road today.”

Jackson raised his head with a smirk,

“No, I didn’t.”

Scott’s jaw dropped, is he being serious?

“Yes, you did.”

Jordan rolled his eyes internally at the fact that Jackson was about to make a meal out of it just to try to aggravate the doctor. All other conversations ceased to be a part of this one, which was also ceased temporarily as Theo re-entered with their appetisers,

“Lobster soufflé.”

“Oh I hope it’s not too rich, I supposedly eat rather unpretentiously when home.”

Satomi laughed whereas Derek and Jordan laughed at what she said. But that was broken by the fact that Jackson broke the palpable tension between him and Scott, but only to worsen it.

“Oh Yes! That’s right! You were the one driving about as fast as my great aunt’s driving. Trust me I was doing us all a favour, if you can’t control your car you shouldn’t be driving on the roads anyway.”

He spoke with his mouth half full, prompting the judge to say,

“Mr. Whitmore please, there are ladies present.”

“Are you fucking kidding me Whitmore?! You could have killed us both with your recklessness!”

Scott jumped in and raised his voice marginally to highlight his disgust. Jackson just smiled,

“Careful Doctor, there are ladies present.”

“Now, Now, gentlemen. I think an exchange of apologies and a handshake between you would be the thing to do here, and let’s all try to have a nice dinner alright?”

The general reasoned. Jackson tantalizingly looked at Scott, who apologized to the ladies for acting improperly, Jackson said whilst holding his hand across the table,

“You’re right, General. Common McCall, let’s be palls.”

Scott shook his hand unwillingly, but obliged nevertheless. Lydia was unsure why, but she couldn’t help but sneak glances at Jordan. She was fascinated by the enigma in which he was, and yet he was so open. It truly was perplexing. Lydia did not like feeling confused; she was an intelligent woman, and was normally very talented at reading into people and situations, so this bothered her. Raekan came in with their deserts in which was a beautifully presented crème brule.

“Oh isn’t it delightful!” Satomi claimed.

“She might look like death but her cooking is fantastic.” Jackson said innocently, earning awkward glances from around the room.

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to pass your compliments on to Mrs.Raekan.” As Theo left, Jackson turned to Derek,

“Tate, the Owen’s are they… the frivolous. Fun-loving types?”

“Frivolous…?”

“Yea, because there’s something a little off here, I was invited to a house party – ya know, champagne, pretty little things… and apart from maybe Little Miss Martin and Parrish who seem to cut up a bit lively, the rest don’t seem to fit the criteria of fun-loving, no offence.” He smiled widely. How charming, Lydia rolled her eyes. Whilst he earnt some outraged glances, he was ignored.

After dinner, they followed the social convention of the century – the men had cigars and brandy in the dining room and so the two women had a coffee in the drawing room aside the drinks table.

“Thank you for the beautiful dinner Mrs Raekan, the Owen’s are truly blessed to have you.”

Erica thanked Satomi for her kind comment and whisked out the room again after having filled their cups with coffee. Suddenly, they were all interrupted by a booming voice over an inter-com system.

_“Ladies and gentlemen, silence please,”_

“Who is that?” Lydia asked. You could hear a pin drop in the silent seconds that followed until the voice continued,

_“You are charged with the following indictments… Scott McCall, that you murdered Allison Argent.”_

Scott rose in astonishment, “Who is this?!” and Raekan responded, “I don’t know, sir.”

_“Satomi Ito, that you murdered Carrie Talbot.”_

Satomi had arisen in seconds and she gasped, “What’s the meaning of this?!” Lydia and Satomi hurried to the dining room but the men met them halfway in the foyer.

_“Derek Hale, that you did murder Paige Krasikeva.”_

“Oh Jesus!” Scott exclaimed. Jordan distantly patted himself on the back with the confirmations of his suspicions that ‘Tate’ was clearly in fact Derek Hale.

_“Lydia Martin, that you did murder Matthew Daehler.”_

_“Jordan Parrish, that you did murder fourteen people of a tribe in East-Africa.”_

_“Jon Stillinski, that you did murder Adrian Harris.”_

“Where is this coming from?” Argent asked, trying to stay calm but utterly distressed as were most.

Raekan pointed to the below stairs, ducking his head in what Jordan thought was a hint of shame.

“Let’s go, Raekan.”

Jordan said lowering his voice and pointing to the below stairs.

_“Jackson Whitmore, that you did murder Michael and Sean Walcott .”_

“Who the hell are they? I’ve never heard of them?” Jackson said frankly and matter-of-factly as they all travelled to the below stairs to find the source of the voice.

_“Gerard Argent, that you did murder Reed Schall.”_

By this point, Theo was beginning to unlock a door, but no one had the patience. Jordan saved time,

“Get out of the way.” Theo did so and Parrish began to kick the door whilst the others stood dumbfounded.

_“Theo and Erica Raekan,”_

A smash and a piercing shriek from the kitchen alerted Lydia and Theo. Theo ran to the kitchen wearing a strangely baleful expression.

_“That you did murder Tara Graeme.”_

“Theo!” Erica whimpered as he came into the kitchens, as he neared her he wrapped his hand over her mouth.

_“Prisoners at the bar, how do you plead?”_

Jordan finally kicked down the door to see a gramophone, playing a record.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make sure all the names of the potentially murdered were in fact in the show at some point and tried to link, I hope you like the story, I'll be updating soon :)


	3. Confessions and Concessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guests question their situation and the accusations pinned against them, are they guilty? innocent? It may be too late to know...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2 (technically haha) really hope you like it!

“Mrs Raekan!” Satomi gasped at the sight of her limp form in her husband’s arms.

“Don’t worry, she’s just taken a bit of a turn –“ Theo began.

“I’ll get my bag,” Scott stepped forward.

“She’ll be fine –“

Theo started again but was interrupted by the doctor,

“I think I’ll be the judge of that, there’s no harm in making sure.” And so he trailed in their wake as they went back upstairs, leaving the others to mull over the cancerous seed in which was the thought of the voice on the gramophone, down in the dank below-stairs… so many questions and seemingly no answer.

“The record…?” Jon started but was unable to finish a structured sentence. Jordan picked up on this and finished,

“It’s been recorded over ‘Swan Song’…” A deafening silence followed, time enough for people’s broiling emotions to stew… the confines of the steel blue corridor walls, beginning to suffocate them.

“What are they playing at? Huh?! I mean, what the hell are they playing at?! Your ‘pals’, these Owens!”

Jackson’s fuse fell short and he blew, pushing Derek into the wall – who was too shocked to initially retaliate.

“Let him go Whitmore, alright!” the General tried to reason but he didn’t listen. Until Jordan baffled them all,

“Relax Whitmore, he doesn’t _know_ them. He’s not _Tate_.”

In Jackson’s moment of hesitation, being mystified, Derek pushed him off of him vehemently and straightened himself and the dinner jacket he was wearing. After some agonizing waiting from the others, he sighed in defeat,

“I’m Hale. Detective sergeant Derek Hale. How did you even know?”

“Instinct.”

Jordan’s voice was almost a hushed whisper, and not that she would admit it – particularly given the certain circumstances - but Lydia found it incredibly sexy. After a few moments of silence, Jackson huffed,

“I think I need a drink.” And he pushed past the bystanders to get upstairs to the drawing room.

“Who would say such nonsensical lies? They’re pretty serious accusations!” General Stillinski was outraged. Satomi nodded in assent.

“We should get back upstairs and wait for Raekan and McCall.” Derek said decidedly, almost patronizingly which rubbed Jordan the wrong way.

“Yea! Good idea, let’s _all_ listen to the policeman.” Parrish rolled his eyes as he passed the newly uncovered cop, venturing back upstairs. The others shortly followed.

 

* * *

 

Theo was watching his wife as she lay on the bed as stiff as a rod but was somehow still shaking, staring at the ceiling with a clammy moisture breaking from her eyes. Scott stepped to the bed with a glass half full of a murky white liquid,

“Here drink this,”

Erica sat up and looked to Theo for confirmation, as he nodded she took the glass gratefully, draining the contents whilst shaking. She distantly realised how depraved of nutrition she was and couldn’t remember when she last ate. Once she handed the glass back to Scott she lay back on the bed curled on her side, a mute. Scott tried to ignore her distress, pegging it to be what was said on the gramophone perhaps.

“Raekan, there’ll unequivocally be questions about the Owen’s that only you can answer – “

He glanced sideways to Erica, who was in no shape to be interrogated the way he knew Theo would be.

“Yes, Sir. Of course.” Theo’s eyes glanced at the somewhat dingy floor where Scott stood and then they fell back onto his wife as Scott began to leave, after his request, “Just give me a few minutes.”

And with that he left. After she heard his footsteps disappear, she sprang upright from the bed in a frantic whisper, spitting her words,

“I told you this would happen, I told you!”

In an instant Theo’s hands were wrapped around her neck and she yelped, causing Scott to stop in his tracks and as he turned around coming close to their door, he heard,

“Just pull yourself together and shut your mouth you stupid bitch!”

And just as his hand touched the doorknob to intervene, Theo had released her and came to the door,

“Ah Sir, You should proceed to the drawing room with the others, I need to find our instructions sheet.”

Scott hesitated but did so, there was no way Raekan would let him pass, and he as well as all have been accused of murder. Theo returned to the drawing room, the tension palpable enough to slice through, with his instructions to show all. The ladies were the only people seated in the ivory decorated room.

* * *

 

Theo cleared his throat,

“See, all it said was to play the record at the certain time as a sort of party game.”

“Some party game!” Derek scoffed.

“But you were in the dining room with us, Raekan. It can’t have been…”

Jordan finished The General’s thought process once again with,

“It was on a delay. Somebody’s spent a lot of time and money on this particular record.”

He let it fall on the table and walked away, now facing out a darkened window instead of the middle of the room.

“I wouldn’t have played the record if I’d known what was on it. The things it’d said, and about me and Mrs Raekan! It’s ridiculous.”

Theo seemed a little on the defensive, and Derek pointed out marginally questioning,

“There’s nothing in it then?” prompting Theo to further his point.

“Tara Graeme was like family to us, we did everything we could for her but she wasn’t well… and on the account that she left us a small portion of her possessions to us in her will… well below stairs is competitive, they’ll say anything.”

Jordan eyed him sceptically but he didn’t notice. He was too busy trying to maintain a façade.

“Thank you Raekan, we’ll summon you should we need anything else.”

Satomi said evenly. She continued as Raekan left,

“I’ve had my fair share of incompetent and malicious staff, I don’t doubt Raekan.”

“I’ve never even met a Michael or Sean Walcott?!” Jackson interjected, bemused.

“It’s all vindictive nonsense.” Satomi spat. After moments of nothing, Scott began in a small voice,

“Allison was a patient of mine. I knew the operation was going to be risky, but I wanted to save her, and I was hopeful. But it wasn’t enough…”

He dropped his gaze and earned a pat on the back from Stillinski, who went on to say,

“Adrian Harris was one of my finest men fighting beside me, had a great mind and a great heart. He was killed in action. It’s outrageous that these disgraceful rumours should be made.”

“Reed Schall was guilty. I didn’t _enjoy_ convicting people to their deaths but justice had to be served.”

The judge turned his gaze to the record on the table with a deep set frown. Hale retorted,

“The only thing I ever did to Paige was comfort her, she wasn’t well when she’d died...”

He glanced around with his eyes, Jordan didn’t miss it.

“Matthew, the little boy… I was his governess,”

Lydia’s voice broke at the mention of the ‘little boy’.

“He wasn’t allowed to swim… he wasn’t physically strong enough… but he snuck away when we were on the beach one day… and I couldn’t swim well enough when I’d finally got to the water. I just wasn’t good enough…”

Tears began to well up in her hazel eyes and her voice broke into sobs,

“I tried so hard, I really tried to save him but I almost drowned… I had to be rescued myself and somehow made it… his mother… older brother… so broken. Who could say something like this?”

She whispered, not trusting the strength of her voice. The general, who was closest to her, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“It’s a spiteful joke. It’s psychotic.” Scott said, disgusted.

“It was completely accurate about me.”

All eyes turned on him when Jordan’s husky voice penetrated the cloud of silence that fell over everyone.

“You killed _fourteen_ people?!” Scott enunciated each syllable with an almost childlike innocence he seemed so hurt.

“I knew someone would talk, it’s almost amusing how some get their shred of conscience back when their safely tucked away in their beds at night. I’m not proud of it, far from it. I didn’t know there were innocent people there and it haunts me.”

He lowered his head, only to raise it again when Satomi was enraged,

“You awful, terrible man. How could you? War’s war there are innocent everywhere!”

“With all due respect Miss Ito, I’m not the only Killer in East Africa.”

“You’re a butcher!” Hale jabbed a finger in his direction.

“And I’m holdin’ my hands up! So either I’m exaggerating a story for _deplorable_ effect, or I’m the only one being totally truthful in a room full of liars!”

Jordan defended himself and rightly so, he knew what he’d done, and he knew people here weren’t being completely honest and it bothered him that he was being reproached.

“How dare you!” “What?!” “God almighty.” “Liars?!”

A somewhat pandemonium broke out until the judge silenced them all,

“Ladies and gentlemen, please! What good is this? I think we’d do well to retire to our rooms and be prepared to leave first thing with Mr. Lahey’s arrival.”

“But what about the Owen’s what if they’re there too?” Scott asked.

“Then in that case we confront as to why they did this. But, either way, we leave.”

After a moment or so of silence he continued,

“And despite Mr.Parrish’s somewhat overwhelming confession, we’ve all been subject to a cruel deception. And we shouldn’t dignify any of these accusations with any further debates. Agreed?”

Muffled sounds of agreement reflected off the walls.

“Michael and Sean Walcott… they must have been those kids we’d ahh… a friend of mine and I were in the Jensen and it was pitch black outside and really, who leaves their children out in the dark like that? That’s what’s irresponsible.”

Jordan silently wondered why Jackson had been keeping so quiet, but at least he was telling the truth, devastatingly.

“Oh you were driving? What a surprise!” Scott reprimanded.

“It was dark and sheer bad luck that’s all it was... and I didn’t stand a chance.” Jackson stated defensively but not irate like most others in the room. Lydia’s hand crept over her mouth.

“Poor children… those poor, poor children.”

Satomi whispered incredulously to no one in particular.

“You’re insane Whitmore, bloody maniac.”

Scott grunted.

“I wasn’t driving that fast McCall, you can’t get away with it in England, it’s not like the continent. Now they understand motoring,”

Jackson began conversing in his ordinary manner, which infuriated most in the room. His voice broke off every now and then when he sipped his drink.

“You can say what you like ‘bout the Krauts, but their roads are phenomenal and my Jensen loves them –“

His mindless babble was abruptly cut off by an incessant coughing. His glass dropped to the floor and smashed into tiny crystal shards. He was choking. He yanked at his collar that was constricting his breathing – or so he thought. Scott leapt behind him to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre only for him to catch his shaking form.

“He’s bleeding!” Lydia shouted from aside him as blood was frothing at the mouth and spilling over, staining the floor. He jolted out of Scott’s grasp and fell onto Lydia upon the sofa and blood spurted from his mouth onto her.

“Get him off of me!” She cried. Parrish and Hale aided McCall and the General to do so as his spasming muscles were out of any one man’s constraint. They lifted him to the floor as he was still choking, gagging on his blood. He lost his grip on Scott’s arm and his eyes turned glassy. Scott put his two forefingers to Jackson’s neck.

“He’s dead…” He whimpered.


	4. Queries and Theories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension begins to rise with the death toll, the strangers becoming more weary of one another. Lydia has a theory and her bond with Jordan strengthens, whilst some of the tentative formations wither...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an update! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I love writing it! :)

* * *

“Oh heavenly father…” Satomi began praying for them all while all were stunned to silence.

“We should take the body away.” Jordan said gruffly, receiving curt nods from the younger men in the room. They all lugged his corpse to his bedroom and panted when he was placed on the bed. Hale lifted the sheet over his stone-like face. Before long, Hale, Parrish and McCall where the only ones left in the room when Parrish called them over,

“Hey guys, come take a look at this.”

As they neared his side of Jackson’s room he showed them the neat box with the white, powdered stimulant inside.

“Should we get rid of it? Out of respect to his family? We shouldn’t cause a scandal.” Scott said glumly, but Hale disagreed,

“We can’t, not now. It’s a police matter and the same rules apply.”

Scott merely nodded.

 

* * *

 

 _We’re damned, we’re damned! We’re going to hell!_ Erica thought to herself over and over again, leaving her tossing and turning in her bed. But Theo wouldn’t listen to her. Theo said what’s rightfully theirs they should take if they wanted it enough. But it was wrong, she knew it from the start. Suddenly there was a knock on her door making her heart skip several beats as she bolted upright, ram-rod straight.

“Who is it?” silence. Null but the thumping of her erratic heart. Thump, thump. Thump. Thump.

“Who’s there?!” dots of perspiration sprang from her forehead and gathered over her skin like a film. But there was silence. And that silence carried out through the night…

 

* * *

 

Scott saw her that night. Her smile, her chocolate waves and beautiful brown eyes. He saw Allison. He told her he’d try, he promised he would try. But it didn’t work. It just wouldn’t be. _It’s ok, Scott. It’s ok._ She smiled, beguiling. _I’m dying in the arms of my first love._ But it wasn’t alright, he thought as her blood drained out of her to his hands around her. He awoke as if his heart had jolted his form awake.

“Doctor? Doctor McCall?” Theo knocked gingerly on Scott’s bedroom door.

“Yes? What’s wrong?” He panted. He rose and dressed himself in moderate haste to follow Theo to the situation. At first sight, Scott wondered why Theo opened the door on his sleeping wife to another so… openly, until he realised. He checked for a pulse as he neared her form, all too still with dormancy.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know… I woke up and she was like this… I was hoping you would have an answer…”

Theo’s voice fluctuated between composure and weakened restraint. The doctor touched the icy skin of her forehead and placed his forefingers upon her neck a while longer than before.

“She’s been dead for quite some time… I’ll tell the others not to expect much of breakfast, we’ll serve ourselves.”

Scott whispered, unsure of what else he can too. It was too late for her…

“That won’t be necessary. Full breakfast will still be provided, sir.” Theo straightened himself.

“Are you sure?” Scott asked fervently. He received a curt nod. And with that he left the room, leaving the widower in peace to grieve.

 

* * *

 

Parrish finished re-loading his belongings into his case again and unlocked his top drawer to get out his revolver, in which he shoved the barrel down his belt at his back. The situation here was more than dire, as he expected. As he came down the grand stairs he caught Scott walking morosely down the stairs in his dressing gown.

“Dr. McCall?” Lydia emerged from the corridor on the floor Scott set foot on, not seeing she’d beaten Parrish to asking him,

“Has Mrs.Raekan gotten any better?”

“No. She’s… dead.” His voice was husky. He’d thought he’d be used to death by now. As he footed the floor, he glanced up to see Parrish a few paces behind him.

“Dead?” Parrish echoed.

“In her sleep, peacefully. Thankfully…” Scott elaborated, he was glad last night’s fiasco in the drawing room wasn’t repeated.

Jordan met Lydia’s gaze and her doe eyes were astonishingly beautiful but pained.

“Nothing to be alarmed about though.” Scott said robotically, but before he disappeared, Lydia said frantically,

“Wait! There’s something you should see, Parrish?” She gestured but looked up to Parrish wanting his opinion on the matter also, now that he was here too. They followed Lydia who’d quickened her pace to the dining room. The room was strangely bare, apart from the odd figurines in the middle of the table, but there were no longer ten of them…

“Count them for me, please. There are eight, aren’t there? For the eight people here?” Lydia said in faltered breaths.

“I’m sure there’s a rational explanation for this, calm down.” Scott reasoned but Lydia continued,

“It’s like the poem… one choked his little self and one overslept himself and then there were eight and there are eight.” Lydia began to raise her voice along with her paranoia.

“McCall she’s right –“

Jordan began but was interrupted when Sergeant Hale spoke from behind them,

“Parrish, a word? Please?” Jordan frowned but came nevertheless, sparing one last glance at Lydia who nodded with a smile, answering his inner question – is she gonna be ok? Derek had already made his way to the stairs leaving Jordan a few paces behind, when he got to Jackson’s room, he saw Hale bent over the corpse.

“It’s a little late for the kiss of life, Hale.” He said sarcastically. He still wasn’t over the covering identity scandal along with a general falseness about him that he sensed.

“You’re a smart ass, smell yourself.” Derek retorted. Jordan mimicked Hale’s prior position and smelt Jackson’s cold lips, not like death, or cocaine… almonds?

“Cyanide.” Derek answered immediately.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t get hysterical, Lydia, don’t unravel on us common, we’ve got to get ourselves out of here.” Scott grabbed her shoulders gently not wanting to hurt her. She shook her head through her traitor tears which spilled over when she was afraid.

“Please,” Scott pleaded. Parrish walked through the door and his face fell immediately as he ran to her. Scott looked hesitant,

“It’s ok,” Parrish affirmed but still left him the choice to either stay or leave. Scott nodded, “I’ll get some tea maybe…” he left somewhat awkwardly. Parrish looked at her angelic face and it burned that she was so upset and he could do nothing. It wasn’t good that he felt this way about her, he knew that. But he couldn’t help it.

“Miss Martin?” He tried to meet her eyes but she was refusing to look at him. At least she wasn’t fighting against anyone anymore. She slowly peered up at him and to his utter surprise, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leant her head on his chest.

“It’s the poem Jordan, I know it is. It’s the poem.” She didn’t mean to get so close to him and to use his name as if it were so familiar to her, but she didn’t care. After a moment’s hesitation, he embraced her back and whispered to her whilst stroking her hair.

“I believe you. We’ll be alright, ok? I promise.” Jordan looked at her fervently and her tears ceased, she knew Jordan was one of the few in this house that was unmistakably honest and in that moment she trusted him. He gently brushed away a tear from her cheek and she tried to hide the burning sensation it left behind.

“Lydia.” She said in a slightly croaked voice, but it wasn’t from the crying... He smiled, “Jordan.”

Lydia finished packing her clothes after she’d dressed herself, preparing to leave. She kept a mental note to apologise to Jordan for her hysterical and overly anxious behaviour. Jordan was walking back down the stairs when he heard the General come in, without his shoes and socks on. He said lightly,

“Go for a paddle, General Stillinski?”

Jon’s expression surprised him somewhat though, as he appeared very troubled.

“You’re a soldier of sorts, Parrish. Can’t you feel the calm that’s settled over us? It’s the calm before a storm – like that moment right before the attack. The amity before the chaos.”

“I was never a man for calm, General.” Jordan tried to lighten his expression some, but it failed.

“We can’t see the harbour from here, Parrish. Which unequivocally means they can’t see us. We’re as cut off as rats in a barrel… this is that moment of absolute calm… before the bloodshed.”

* * *

 

The seven guests that remained ate in silence as Raekan had served them, until Lydia couldn’t take it any longer.

“So none of you moved them?!”

“No.” all repeated, some tiresomely, others more complacently.

She searched the eyes around the room and remembered her theory about the poem.

“How did Mrs. Raekan die, Doctor McCall?”

“In her sleep, why?”

“Did you give her something?”

“What?!” Scott was appalled at her obvious insinuation.

“Did you give her something?!” She raised her voice mildly, people had stopped eating.

“Miss Martin, please-“ The Judge began but was ignored and interrupted,

“A mild sedative! What are you trying to suggest?” Scott was feeling irritable due to his lack of sleep.

“Did you give her too much?!” Lydia wailed at the thought of the poem… _Nine little soldier boys stayed up late; One overslept himself and then there were eight._ Scott turned himself away from her at this point. This was ridiculous, he thought.

“Well?! –“

“How do we know you didn’t move them, Miss Martin?!” He shot back, as in honesty, he couldn’t know if she had or hadn’t.

“That’s ridiculous –“

“And that’s my point. This is ridiculous.” He turned away again to his food.

“Why would I do that and ask who moved them?” she huffed.

“You could be asking for attention, who knows – you were the one who discovered it.” Derek blurted out and immediately regretted it.

“Excuse me?” Lydia said, astounded.

“Let’s just eat breakfast, alright?” Parrish suggested and everyone did so in silence. When Raekan entered the room, Satomi cleared her throat and gave her condolences about the news of his wife’s death.

“Such a waste, she was a gifted cook… oh this egg is precisely three and a half minutes is it?”

Incredulous eyes darted from their food to her. Theo smiled a contrived smile, “Yes, madam. It is.”

“Raekan, did you take away two of these soldier figures?” Lydia insisted, making many around the table sigh in exasperation.

“No, Miss Martin.” Moving on the subject to avoid dispute, Hale said,

“My condolences, Mr. Raekan. When can we be expecting Mr.Lahey?”

“Most likely late morning to midday, sir. Lahey’s time keeping isn’t the best.”

“How do you know? Surely he’s only ferried supplies just the once?” Satomi asked, Theo replied,

“We’d been here a week before your arrival, Madam. Will that be all?”

“Yes Raekan, thank you and for the breakfast.” Argent smiled and Theo left the room. Lydia was stewing.

“Jackson Whitmore was a strong, young man he wouldn’t have died from a little bit of stimulant… perhaps… what if he was… poisoned – and Mrs. Raekan was maybe given too much…” Lydia almost vented, before anyone could retaliate, Jordan stepped in,

“Maybe if we went through your supply? Might ease her?” Jordan met her gaze and a faint smile played on her lips.

“Seriously?” Scott sighed.

“Why did you even bring it? Thought you were having a break?” Hale noted.

“Actually, not. I tried maintaining professional discretion but given the circumstance… Mrs Owen suffers from female neuroses which falls under my speciality of female disorders as a doctor. Mr Owen hired me to tend to his wife.”

“So you gave up on surgery work then McCall?” Jordan pondered, it was more a statement than a question. McCall shot him a look then Lydia asked,

“What have you got to hide?!”

“Alright!”

The General and Sergeant Hale went through his briefcases.

“You might want to search the judge’s too – I know where I’ve seen you before, I saw you visiting a friend of mine who’s a cancer specialist. If anybody’s gonna have strong painkillers…”

Scott didn’t finish, he was too ashamed of himself for exploiting the judge’s illness to everyone and it was a poor route to deflect the attention away from him. Argent was seemingly unfazed though, fortunately. There was nothing of the sort in either briefcase.

“My surgery was successful, everything about coming here was supposed to be a convalescence for me. The Owen’s invited me here to meet a friend of mine but she never arrived here.” Argent looked troubled.

“I’m very sorry. For all of this.” Lydia kept her eyes on the floor.

“Well, that’s it then – “ General Stillinski began but was interrupted.

“Why shouldn’t we all be searched?” Scott interjected.

“Doctor, please,” Stillinski tried to finish but he’d whisked away, fuming. Why was he being singled out here? The silence that followed dragged until Lydia spoke up,

“Someone moved them. Somebody did that.”

And she too, left. Leaving the others to mull over their queries. Jordan followed after her. She was sitting quietly in the little study off the drawing room by the wall of books. He hovered in the doorway, waiting for her to speak.

“Did you really kill fourteen people, Jordan?” She met his eyes at last but it had felt like a lifetime. And when she did her eyes were filled with such hurt it left a lump in his throat.

“Yes,” he turned away from her and walked across the room, “I’d decided we were to bomb an area with innocent civilians but I had no idea they’d be there – it was a war zone, I had no idea they were using even women and children as human shields.”

This confession pained him every time he even thought the words. Ordinarily, he couldn’t care less what people thought about who or what he was – but he didn’t want Lydia to think of him as what he thought he was. A killer. He continued excruciatingly,

“Because, like most killings in a war inflicted area, we wanted something we weren’t getting. In this case, diamonds.”

He laughed at himself sardonically for a moment. She rose from her chair having been completely silent through his piece and walked behind him and she turned him to her by placing a palm to his face prompting him to turn around.

“You’re not a killer, Jordan. If you were, you wouldn’t care this much.”

She realised she hadn’t released him when they both became more aware of the fact that they were touching.

 

* * *

 

Theo tried to take his mind off of everything by working overtime. Turning simple, mundane tasks into heavy work. Instead of using the pre-cut slabs of wood for the fire, he chopped some more. Instead of using the prior prepared meat for the evening meal, he used the untouched and prepared that. He didn’t want to have to think about what would happen when he ran out of tasks…

 

* * *

 

The general was in his room, seeking asylum. But his vivid flashbacks wouldn’t escape from his mind… he saw the blood of Adrian Harris on his hands as he held his limp form, his eyes pierced into his, saying all he couldn’t…

“I’m sorry Adrian…”

He whispered to himself trying to vehemently thrust the images away. He wasn’t fast enough. And Harris was in the way. In between the shot that made the difference between who lived and who died. His blue eyes turned ice cold as the light had left them, Jon’s hands were drenched in his slick, warm bloods the cold body lamented it’s grip and sunk towards to ground…

 

* * *

 

Already Scott felt torn, he had no idea who he could trust, and all this nonsense was driving him to paranoia. The General wouldn’t peg it as paranoia but prudence to be vigilant, supposing he would know… he’d seemingly accepted their apparent fate… what if that’s why he’s being so calm... Scott’s muscles were agitated, he decided to find one of the only people he could tolerate at these times, Justice Argent. A good time to apologise too…

 

* * *

 

Hale stared absently out the window at the ocean, his face harder than a sculpture. He saw Satomi knitting patiently on the veranda and the general making his way to the cliffs edge. Other than that, the barren green landscape was ominous under the murky white light the cloud cover provided. He exhaled heavily and left his room in haste. We can’t just sit around like _something_ isn’t going on. As he trekked the stairs he saw Parrish talking to Raekan and was immediately suspicious, until he’d heard what they were discussing…

“No, not a soul. When my wife and I were here that week we only saw Lahey with the deliveries.”

Theo answered.

“Thank you, Raekan.” They exchanged nods and Jordan bounded a few steps in the opposite direction to Theo and was halted by Derek,

“Parrish, where’re you going?”

“Where sitting around here, waiting for this Ulick Norman Owen and his wife – what if they’ve been here the whole time?”

Parrish concluded, giving Hale a double take. He’s right – they could well be here already.

“There are plenty of places they could be hiding out…” Derek agreed, and they began staking out the house. After a while of searching and finding nothing and repeating the process some more, Jordan resorted to searching the outside. He was driven to find U. N. Owen and he was adamant that he was right.

“Parrish! Parrish! This is ridiculous no one could hide down there!” Derek shouted from behind as Parrish was bounding down the cliff, searching the skies and the sands but finding nothing. He panted as his eyes searched every detail,

“Ever get the feeling that you’re being hunted, Hale?”

This caught Derek by surprise,

“No…”

“Really? ‘cause this Mr. Owen… knows a lot about us.” Parrish decided to climb his way back up, lunging to where Derek stood.

“Not about me, he doesn’t know anything...” Derek’s heart faltered as he remembered what truly happened to Paige… He couldn’t look at Parrish. Jordan frowned for a moment but believed Hale didn’t _murder_ Paige necessarily… but this ‘Owen’ did. And he was going to kill him for it. All of them.


	5. Furtivness and Assertivness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another death occurs unexpectedly and hopes begin to disintegrate, as challenge begins to overtake and enthral - to solve the mystery behind the murders once and for all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the update! Hope you like it! :)

The General saw Parrish and Hale springing their way back up to the house as he sat serenely on the side of the cliff. He sighed at the beauty of the ocean but also accepted his impending doom. He had nothing left as it was, his wife died just after the war, he hasn’t seen his son for years…

“General?” Lydia Martin was standing behind him, he noted as he turned his torso towards her in response.

“Is your suitcase ready? We’re preparing to leave soon.”

He smiled almost ruefully at her, her expression turned bemused.

“He’s not coming, you know.” Stillinski stated as she began strutting away. She stopped and turned to him but his back was to her now. He continued when the silence grew.

“Lahey. He’s not coming. No one’s coming for us. We won’t be leaving this Island… this is the end.”

Lydia was dumbfounded to silence. Why was he saying these things? How could he so indefinitely lose all hope of escape? Lahey was due to arrive… wasn’t he?

“It’s almost relieving… to come to the end. Know that it’s over. You might not see that yet, but you will…”

His calm voice was disconcerting, and Lydia was determined to stay strong,

“I think you’re wrong. The boat will come and we’ll all be waiting…” She tried but her voice didn’t even sound convincing in her own ears. The general smiled a knowing smile but she was headfast, especially after her recent breakdown, to be strong. She turned on her heels and made her way back to the house. She’d said her piece, now it was up to the General to believe or not.

She saw the judge asleep on the veranda so crept beside him, not wanting to wake him. Until of course, Satomi called for her anyway,

“Ahh Miss Martin, good. Bring a chair, dear.”

Luckily this didn’t wake the judge, and she did so.

 

* * *

 

Back inside the house, Scott almost walked into Derek he didn’t see him there… standing, waiting for God knows what.

“Hale? What’s going on?”

Derek could smell the alcohol coming from a mile off.

“Jesus, McCall – a little early to be on the sauce isn’t it?” the doctor flushed automatically,

“It’s been a rough morning…” As if that made it better, but Derek let it drop nevertheless. There was a loud scraping noise of metal on wood or metal on metal upstairs. Scott frowned and pointed up the stairs to the attic area, but before Derek could answer, Parrish emerged whispering tersely,

“Hey! Hey shhh!”

They did so as he continued, “He’s down there, I heard the asshole moving around – in Whitmore’s room.”

“What asshole?” Scott said bewildered.

“Owen.” Derek answered balefully. Parrish descended the remaining stairs and they made haste to Jackson’s room and as they hovered just outside the door the clattering was more apparent. They looked to each other frantically for a brief moment, and Parrish slowly reached for the revolver at his back and clasped his fingers over it. He slowly drew it out with his hand on the door knob, ready to fling it open. Scott shot Derek and incredulous look which was returned – he has a gun?! Perspiration crept on their foreheads with the tension that built and all any could hear now was the blood roaring in their ears… until Parrish flung open the door and they all hoarded in. Jordan’s finger stroked the trigger but he halted. It was Raekan, on his knees by the bed.

“What are you doing?” Parrish said calmly, but still holding the barrel towards him.

In answer, Theo continued to clatter under the bed and pulled out pieces of camp bed. The three that stood relaxed their rigid muscles.

“Well I can’t stay in my room anymore.” Theo said glumly. The others nodded, of course not.

“Where you planning on staying?” Scott said incredulously.

“Well I have to, it’s my job. I can’t leave until I’m dismissed by my employer –“

“But your employer’s psychotic?!” Derek countered.

“That may be so, but I don’t actually have anything else to go to now.”

Theo concluded. Parrish nodded and began to leave,

“Alright, carry on, Raekan.”

When his footsteps were becoming less audible, Scott turned to Derek,

“Did you know that he had a gun?!” though he whispered his voice rose an octave.

“No.” Derek replied, obviously he didn’t know.

 

* * *

 

After what the General said, Lydia couldn’t help but watch the waters for any slight change indicating Lahey was coming. It was starting to eat away at her…

“Miss Martin, stop.” Satomi looked to her. “He’ll be here.” Satomi carried on knitting.

“I must say though, I understand now why you teach at such a third-rate establishment,”

She began and Lydia raised her eyebrows but before she could argue Satomi continued,

“I’m not accusing you, I’m simply observing that most schools wouldn’t want to be involved with an inquest that’s all… there’s been quite enough of that.”

“Yes, more than enough.” She looked at her hands which were holding the wool Satomi hadn’t used yet.

“Aside from the precarious Mr. Parrish and the somewhat dubious Raekan, and the immoral Mr. Whitmore – it’s all nonsense, girl.”

Lydia looked up from her hands to see Satomi smiling and in that moment, she never wanted to slap anyone more than she did Satomi.

“Everyone was purely doing their obligation, as was I.”

Satomi lifted her chin after she’d finished her sentence, and Lydia realised that she didn’t even begin to justify her accusations last night… before Jackson choked… she flinched away the feeling that seemingly overcame her instantaneously so that she could ask Satomi,

“You didn’t say anything last night… what happened with Carrie?”

Satomi looked at her with such an iced look it made a part of Lydia regret she ever thought it.

“Carrie Talbot was a foundling girl, an unwanted during the war – I thought she was a decent girl, taught her needle work skills and such. She got into trouble… the family way – she begged for my help, logically and quite rightly, I rejected her.”

Lydia’s heart melted at the thought of what happened next to this poor girl as Satomi continued,

“She threw herself under a train days after. Even made the paper, who turned it into a sentimental tale.”

Satomi rolled her eyes and Lydia’s jaw dropped, astounded. She was wrong, _now_ she’d never felt a stronger urge to slap someone.

“But if you would have helped her –“

“It was the weakness of her character that had driven her actions! Why should I be chided?”

Satomi raised her voice an octave and Lydia was furious at her behaviour. There was an awkward silence as Satomi kept her back to her.

“Ask Raekan for some tea. Lemon, not milk.”

Lydia hesitantly rose from her chair and walked away, flabbergasted. The judge was still asleep on his chair and Lydia was pleased to see him getting some rest, knowing how difficult it is in times like this.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t know Hale, this all sounds like a wild goose chase. I mean a man hiding and killing…” Scott was dubious as he weighed out what they’d told him. They were below-stairs as Parrish examining the gramophone room.

“Whitmore was given cyanide though, McCall.” Parrish shot a glance at Derek – why did he leave that part out?

“Cyanide?!” Scott echoed to Derek but he didn’t take his eyes off of Parrish until he spoke up,

“I’m pretty sure of it.” Derek admitted.

“Pretty sure? You were _convinced_ this morning.” Parrish recalled. They realised they’d subconsciously been honing in on one another when Raekan descended the stairs, merely looked at them there, and walked to the kitchens.

“Martin for the Cyanide, I’d wager on it – and before you argue,” Scott began and continued before Jordan leapt to her defence – which made him sigh internally, she could be the death of him, if this Owen isn’t of course.

“She was the one who ‘guessed’ about Whitmore being poisoned and she wasn’t friendly with him…”

Jordan laughed sardonically. Derek said, “She doesn’t really seem the type…” Then again, any one is capable…

“What about the General? All kinds of things can happen to your mind and dangerous men come back from where he’s been.”

Derek suggested, he had to admit he was unsettled by the calm that came upon Stillinski when this got started…

“Oh well let’s search everybody then, like Scott said! Religious maniac Satomi, let’s search Argent!”

Parrish began embellishing to emphasise how ludicrous this was, pointing fingers when the killer is on the loose as they speak.

“Well, he’s notorious as a hanging judge – infamous for the black square… rumour has it, he’d watch every execution that he convicted.”

Derek hushed his voice down.

“Hale, you’ve looked sideways at McCall the whole morning and now everybody’s fair game?”

Parrish was mildly losing his patience and Derek underestimated how closely Jordan observes until then.

“You suggested the judge, Parrish.” He said in a defensive tone as he glared knives at him. Jordan’s eyes narrowed,

“I was taking the piss. Owen is on Soldier Island and I’m going to find him.” And with that, he strode off upstairs.

“Just ignore him – it sounds to me like he’s trying to stir the pot. And I can stir it back.”

Derek said coldly to Scott, who stood silently, unsure of what to do next…

 

* * *

 

Satomi was wrapping the rest of her wool back around the ball as she’d finished for now, she was finding it too tiresome for any soothing effect now. The more the hours ticked on by, the more worried she became that Lahey was in fact, not coming. She looked passed the cliffs out to sea and listened to the gulls crying. A layer of mist began to fog her view when she saw it. A misshapen bit of land that wasn’t there before… suddenly she was drawn as the moon draws water, and she found her legs taking her to the edge of the cliff. The gulls had gathered above the strange terrain and flew in concentric circles, hovering above. She drew nearer. She watched her feet, not wanting to fall, when she looked up and saw the General’s body, drenched in his own blood.

 

* * *

 

The more able men that were left carried General Stillinski’s body back into the house and lay him temporarily on the ground. Parrish looked to Lydia who was horrified. He noticed Jon’s face wasn’t quite covered up.

“Don’t look,” He said gruffly as he pulled some cloth over his face. Satomi gasped,

“Somebody did this to him?” in a small voice.

“Well it was clearly not accidental...” Derek sighed in exasperation. “It’s murder.”

There were a few moments of warranted silence until Lydia spoke up,

“He said that nobody was coming for us… that this was the end…” Lydia started, she also remembered the fact that he’d accepted his fate… perhaps – she turned on her heels and almost stumbled into the dining room to count the figurines left on the table…. Her suspicions did not prove false… there were seven.

“Miss Martin?” Judge Argent spoke from behind her. She didn’t even realise he was with her, she made her point clear,

“ _Eight little soldier boys travelling in Devon; One said he’d stay there and then there were seven_.”

Her voice fluctuated as she almost broke into sobs,

“Count them, judge.” He did so, and noted there were, in fact, seven. With that she ran out of the room. A dark cloud had threatened to unleash itself on the island, its thunderous claps jumping her heart. She ran and ran until she was off of the cliff and onto the sands, staring out into the gnashing, grey waters. The wind was howling in her ears as it crystalized her tears upon her cheeks. The judge tried desperately to keep up with her but he wasn’t as strong as he used to be.

The coast reminded Lydia of that terrible day long ago… how she couldn’t save Matthew from drowning… how she wouldn’t be saved now… she ran and crashed into the waves, fully clothed but not caring for anything other than a release, an escape from this hell she was in. she was already knee deep and she knew if she got in much further these waves would throw her about like a ragdoll.

“Miss Martin! Please!” The judge finally caught up with her and pleaded from the shoreline.

“I just want to leave, I have to leave!” She cried.

“But you’ll drown! Please, Miss Martin!” he replied, struggling against the winds.

She hesitated, watching the waters as she breathed in the salty air, it stung her nostrils. The judge started to come in after her, pleading for her to come inside. She started to move back to the shoreline and when she reached Argent he placed a supportive arm around her and they trudged out of the water.

But despite Argent’s assurances of ‘I’ve got you, it’s alright.’ She slipped through once or twice, at this point Parrish had appeared from the bottom of the cliffs and ran to their aid. But he was too far away, Lydia slipped and fell and Argent couldn’t pick her back up again. Lydia was shivering and couldn’t bring herself to move.

“It’s ok, Argent. Get inside, get warm.” Jordan yelled over the violent winds to the judge, who nodded his head and made his way up the cliffs. Through failed attempts of tying to help Lydia up, Parrish just scooped her up in his arms and carried her,

“Sorry about this.” He said just before doing so, but he wasn’t about to leave her there. She lifted her cold arm around his neck and rested her head on his chest. And he carried her up to the house.

 

* * *

 

“I told you that Owen was on the Island.” Parrish said whilst lounging on a sofa in the study, resting his muscles.

“What made you certain of it?” Scott asked after taking a drag of his cigar.

Jordan merely replied, “Instinct.” In much the same, hushed tone as before. Lydia smiled at him furtively before taking another sip of tea, letting the warmth leach into her system after having been so cold, she shivered at the thought, even under a blanket.

“Well, let’s be rational and try to stick to procedures… so who is this Owen?” Detective Sergeant Hale began work.

“And Mrs. Owen.” Satomi interjected.

“What if there isn’t even a Mrs. Owen?” Scott pondered aloud.

“We’ve got to have something in common, why we’re _all_ being targeted... somebody who knows us all” Derek continued.

The room fell silent for a minute or two. Satomi broke it suddenly with a short, sarcastic chuckle,

“Well how can that be remotely possible? I can imagine crossing paths with Dr. McCall or Judge Aregnt but someone like Mr. Parrish? Hardly likely.”

Someone like Parrish? Lydia thought – so you mean, somebody honest? She thought sarcastically.

“We’ve crossed paths now, haven’t we, Miss.” He said in a husky voice that not only made Lydia smile but burn deep down when he smiled at her after noticing her giggle at his comment. He did have a point though. Satomi rolled her eyes.

“Ah Parrish, Hale tells me that you have a gun, a revolver to be precise.”

Argent began. Jordan sighed in vexation and internally rolled his eyes. He replied,

“That’s right.”

“He has a gun?!” Satomi said overlapping Derek’s, “Why do you have a gun, Parrish?”

“Because I carry it everywhere.” He half-joked but he was being dead serious. Satomi looked astonished which only made his smile grow, in honesty.

“ _And_ because it was… implied that I may have the need for it coming here.”

“Implied, by whom?” Argent asked, puzzled.

“A guy called Vernon Boyd in London, Soho – he got in touch with me about the job and forwarded the letter for me from the Owens.”

“Vernon Boyd? That’s who got in touch with me about my job here too...” Lydia found it odd, not a coincidence seemingly. Justice Argent recalled,

“Soho? I got an invitation from the Owen’s – whom I’d personally never heard of, to join a mutual friend here, Doctor Gabriel Valeck. ‘The perfect place to recover’ the letter had said… and the envelope was postmarked – London, Soho.”

Definitely not a coincidence then. Satomi rose to pour herself another cup of tea as she was babbling on about this place being a ‘basin of depravity’ and a ‘Godless desert.’

“What brings you here, Miss Satomi? Were you invited by the Owen’s for work or recuperation?”

Argent asked from his seat and Satomi turned her attention to him and raised her voice so it was more clearly audible.

“Mrs Owen was interested in my work, on _The Moral Education of Girls_ of the lower orders. They must be taught modesty and decency, or society would be piled under a rising count of unwanted births –“

Scott wheezed cough and Lydia choked on some of her tea, whereas Jordan was just trying to choke back a laugh. Hale and Argent tried to be more serious and maintain more discretion. Satomi continued as if she didn’t notice,

“She wanted to contribute to my… cause as such.”

“Hale?” The judge asked when Satomi had finished.

“I got a letter from Mr Ulick Norman Owen,” he began nonchalantly,

“He was pleased with my work in the force, said if I had the time, if I’d spend some ‘keeping an eye out’ on things here. The pay would have been difficult to turn down.”

“Keeping an eye out for what?” Scott asked innocently.

“He claimed that somebody here would be coming under false pretences –“

Jordan didn’t miss the look Derek shot at him.

“Owen also supplied a list of guests, which were all of you.” He gestured around the room.

“But what he didn’t say, was that Parrish would have a gun!” He finished venomously. Parrish looked up at him, pressing his lips into a thin line. Scott had been searching the floor for answers but came up with another question,

“Do you think it’s Owen’s voice on the record? Would anybody recognise it though if we all got letters…”

“Are we just gonna forget about the gun here?! There’s a man sat over there with a bloody gun!”

Derek raised his voice and shot Parrish a dirty look, who almost smiled.

“You do know, if I’d wanted you dead I could have killed you already, right?” No need to add that I’m the one with the gun on me for Christ’s sakes, Jordan thought. Derek just stared him down.

“Gentlemen, please.” Argent said. Derek straightened himself and Jordan couldn’t help but smirk, which inherently made Lydia smile too.

“Hand it over. Common, Parrish – surrender your revolver.” Derek began again.

“Like hell.” Jordan almost laughed. What, so you could shoot me instead Derek? He thought.

“I could make you.” Derek said darkly, but it took a lot to scare Jordan Parrish.

“You can try.” He retorted with a voice of honey coated over ice shards. Lydia tried to pretend that she didn’t find Jordan incredibly attractive in that moment.

“Wait so is Vernon Boyd actually Mr. Owen?” Lydia asked.

“No, I’d have found that guy by now.” Jordan said to his glass that he was swirling his drink in.

“Jews. Wherever there’s a problem nowadays, there are Jews behind it.” Satomi claimed, infuriating many. Seriously? Scott rolled his eyes.

“Something has suddenly struck me,” Argent began.

“I don’t know why I didn’t see it before… Ulick Norman Owen, Una Nancy Owen…” he was sketching down on a notepad and had the intrigue of all in the room.

“Or… U.N. Owen…” He handed the piece of paper to Lydia across the coffee table,

“Is unknown.” The thunder began rumbling outside in the bowel of blackness which was the sky. Lydia handed the paper along to Scott.

“Maybe it’s a riddle.” Argent mused.

“But what does it mean?” Scott asked timidly.

“It means, that Parrish is right to insist that the killer is in fact on the island…” Argent concluded.

“And he’s getting very wet out there.” Jordan joked, wanting the tone to be lightened.

“Oh no, Mr. Parrish, no. the killer’s not out there. The killer is in here…”

You could hear a pin drop in that house the moment the words rolled off the Judge’s lips.

“The Killer is one of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to point out that certain views that are expressed by the character's in this fiction are not that of my own, but to help define strong differences e.t.c between the characters.


	6. Distraction and Infraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the number of guests left decreases further, it leaves more room for the paranoia setting in and even distraction's don't seem to help the feelings of threat upon them all like an insufferable dark cloud...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an update! hope you enjoy! :)

Everyone exchanged frantic glances in the silence within the room.

“But… why? We’ve never even met each other before now…” Lydia stated the obvious but the obvious was what was apparently failing her.

“How could I even be capable? I’m an elder woman!” Satomi asked outraged.

“Anyone is capable, Miss Ito. 40 years on the criminal benches taught me that.” Argent said matter-of-factly but toned deep with wistfulness.

“Raekan-“ Derek began, Jordan sighed and rolled his eyes,

“Here we go again, lining up the next suspect in question.” Derek ignored him,

“Mark my words, it’s got to be Raekan. He’s real slick, barely even hear him come and go,”

“Going in and out from dinner one would hardly notice him… and he could have had time to put something in Whitmore’s drink.” Satomi observed.

“I heard him telling Mrs. Raekan to shut up… well she’s shut up now, isn’t she!” Scott said raising his pitch each syllable, this was making him crazy he’d have sworn.

“He’s the one moving the figures!” Satomi concluded as if she were bothered by that in the first place, Lydia narrowed her eyes at her, not that Satomi saw.

“But the General, and the rest of us, that record, and this house – _why?!_ “

Lydia calculated internally but she couldn’t add it up.

“Raekan, I’m telling you. He’s got cunning running through him – we need to watch him.” Derek insisted. But something seemed off to Lydia, and to Parrish as well…

“Your mind keeps changing, Hale.” Jordan knew Derek couldn’t be certain because he kept changing his opinion.

“How can you be so sure?” Hale replied with a strange fear deepset in his eyes.

“I could say the same.” Parrish responded huskily.

All anyone could hear for a while was the howling wind outside.

“We’re all being hunted. There’s someone else on this Island. And when I find him, I’m gonna kill him before he kills us.”

Parrish vowed.

“How can you say that so easily?” Satomi wondered, appalled.

“I just open my mouth, and it comes out.” Jordan flourished with his hand to exaggerate. He found her so over bearing and he would be doing them a favour for crying out loud. After that moment, the door creaked open and Raekan stated quietly,

“I’m not sure what supplies we have left but I’ll see what can be done about dinner. There’s some Liver, kidneys – maybe a pie… with some gravy…”

Theo seemed a little out of sorts but no one commented on it.

“That would be excellent, Raekan. Thank you.” The judge said, underlying his dismissal.

“Yes, thank you, Raekan.” Scott added before he left.

“I don’t know about you guys but I’m not eating a mouthful of his pie.” Derek claimed and visibly shuddered at the thought.

Theo went below-stairs and whipped his apron on before getting out the liver and kidneys for the pie. But when he went to do so, he all but found a blooded plate, the animal organ’s missing from their place upon that plate.

 

* * *

 

The weather was worsening, clouds literally black and lightning beginning to snap. Then all decided to retire to their rooms, Satomi suggested,

“Trust in God… but perhaps also… lock your doors.” And with that she turned around to lock her door closed. Lydia stood in the corridor a moment whilst everyone mimicked Satomi, bar Jordan. She smiled at him involuntarily, and he returned that smile by reflex. Whilst she hovered a moment, she was unsure why and what she could say. Fortunately for her, Jordan filled it before doing the same.

“Make sure you lock your door, Lydia. And your windows.”

She tried to ignore the thrill that came to her hearing her name in his voice and nodded with a smile before turning around and locking herself in her room. He waited for her to be safely locked away before doing the same for himself. His room was surprisingly dimly lit, until he realised there may have been problems with the power in this weather. He shrugged off his coat and drew out his gun from behind his back and sat down facing the door with it. If he can’t sleep, he’ll keep watch…

 

* * *

 

Theo finished cleaning up the dining room downstairs, and replacing cutlery, when a set of French doors behind him flew open and clattered against the wall they were set in, the net curtains whipping around the drapes. He locked each window back down again and absently came across one of the framed pictures of the ‘Ten Little Soldier Boys’ poem. Perhaps in another light, it would be seen as amusing…

 

* * *

 

Satomi was on her knees knelt up at her bed and praying with all her might in her, guilt over riding her systems, leaking into her very soul. She held her hands together so tight that the tips of her fingers turned white having cut off her circulation. She longed for her whispered pleas to fill her mind and that her faith in God would serve her well. Her eyes sprang open and almost out of her sockets when she could have sworn she had heard little Carrie Talbot praying beside her… she saw her now matted blonde locks, clotted with her own blood...

 

* * *

 

A cold sweat broke onto McCall’s forehead at the repulsive sight. He ran hard and fast until he reached the gong that once summoned the guests to dinner. And he bashed on it hysterically,

“Get up! Get up! GET UP!” He howled deafeningly for someone, anyone. He panted as he awaited. He first saw Parrish.

“What is it?!” He asked. He was not long after followed by Lydia and the Judge too.

“You need to take a look at this.” Scott said trying to hold back vomit.

The newly formed crowd ran after Scott to the below-stairs to which they saw him… Theo was on his side on the stone floor laying in a pool of his own blood… and his innards… Lydia convulsed at the sight and whipped her head away from it to vomit, violently. Jordan rubbed her back briefly but stopped himself not wanting to spring rumours. He held her arm gently to stop her from falling as he looked to Scott for some kind of answer. The judge had caught up by then and had a similar mask of disgust on his face, shortly followed by Satomi.

“I was looking for him, I wanted coffee, I looked and looked everywhere for him and found…this.” Scott said almost hyperventilating.

“It wasn’t me, I swear. I just wanted a coffee.” He broke his stare at the sight with a hopeless sigh. Sure she was capable to stand without aid again, Jordan let Lydia’s arm drop and crouched by the body to examine it further. He touched Theo’s arm and it was steel blue up close and ice cold to touch.

“He’s been here all night.” Parrish resolved.

“ _Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks; One chopped himself in halves and then there were six._ She’s right, it’s the poem. We’re being killed in the order of the poem,” Scott placed his hands on his head and cut off whatever it was he appeared to be about to say.

Lydia remembered her vow to herself. She was going to try to be strong. In light of this, she said somewhat shakily,

“We should get dressed. Go to our rooms, get dressed and I will make coffee… Miss Ito?”

Satomi looked up from the floor to Lydia and replied with a ‘yes, of course,’ before joining her. The judge followed in their wake to get dressed. In that moment. Hale finally came down and had a double take, having the full blown effect of it.

“Holy Shit.” He whispered, barely audible.

“We’re gonna have to wrap him up or this is gonna go everywhere.” Parrish said clinically.

Upstairs, Lydia entered the drawing room with a tea set upon a tray. She walked slowly over to Satomi with it,

“Coffee, Miss Ito.”

Satomi said nothing.

“There’s no milk left either.” Lydia added before she turned on her heels, about to leave when Satomi’s voice in a strange tone she didn’t recognise had stopped her,

“This… person… do they want to kill us all?”

Lydia didn’t want to distress her even more, but she must know the truth, or she wouldn’t have asked she supposed.

“I believe that’s true. Yes.”

Lydia glanced at the floor and Satomi’s face was utterly dead-panned, most likely her go-to expression when she didn’t want to show how she truly felt. With the booming thunder outside, came the cutting off of the lights. Distressing them both further. Lydia poured them both a cup each,

“Drink your coffee, Miss Ito, and I’ll bring up a candle to see by.”

Satomi looked up at her and tried to smile even a contrived smile,

“Thank you, dear.”

But as she left, having not had any of her coffee, paranoia got the better of Satomi and she placed the cup upon the table, untouched.

 

* * *

 

“Judge Argent, I know you’ve already forgiven me but I feel I still owe you an apology for exposing your illness like that. I’m sorry.”

Scott began again under the dim light the dark clouds outside provided, Argent smiled,

“Scott, may I call you that?” Gerard asked earning him an appreciative nod.

“Scott, we’re all feeling a little unkempt, quiet understandably. There’s no need to apologise again.”

They sat in a comfortable silence in the minuets that followed. Scott moved in closer to whisper,

“What are your thoughts and opinions of the others?”

“Truthfully, I haven’t entirely formed one.”

“I don’t trust any of them… I mean I want to… but I can’t bring myself too. Hale, Parrish, Martin! Miss Ito with her religious outbursts!”

Argent smiled a knowing smile.

“But… well, you and I both have sharp minds and well I believe we could form a useful alliance...” Scott didn’t really know what difference this was going to even make, but he had to try to fight for survival here, and any battle is fought better when you’re not alone. Argent nodded in assent,

“Alright then.”

Scott smiled, pleased. He went to drink from his coffee cup when a disconcerting thought dawned on him,

“Miss Martin’s making the coffee… she should be … watched…” Argent agreed and rose from his chair to do so below-stairs.

 

* * *

 

They lugged in the wrapped corpse with blood dripping through the cloth.

“We gotta try to hurry this up.” Hale stated the obvious. Parrish didn’t bother to respond as they were just outside Raekan’s door. They tried to ignore the fetid stench that was in the room and the corpse already in it…

“Right, you clean the stairs,” Jordan began between breaths as he threw a towel at Derek.

“I’ll clean the Wood store in the below-stairs.” Not that he’s never dealt with this kind of thing before, but Jordan cringed at the thought of what he had to do now…

Derek watched him leave the room with reproachful, cautious eyes.

 

* * *

 

Lydia meticulously washed the cutlery and plates left in the sink, taking the role the Raekan’s originally had…but she didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to think full stop. So she continued to wash and dry and decided she’d make more coffee to add to what she already had now made should she run out… a door suddenly opened in an adjoining room and all she could hear was her own breath for an eighth of a second she was rooted to the spot with terror. She was alone. Until she was joined by the judge, smiling at her. Her muscles relaxed infinitesimally.

“May I?” he asked, and she handed him a dishtowel as he joined her. She still didn’t quite find her voice yet.

“I rather quite enjoy domestic tasks, they’re almost soothing.” He mused.

“They are soothing… normal.” She agreed and sighed at how abnormal things were at that moment.

“Indeed they are.” Argent sighed, and Lydia couldn’t help but see the double meaning – he knew exactly what she was saying and thinking.

“I won’t be long, I just need to hand out more coffee…” Lydia almost whispered as she approached the tea urn and oil lamp.

“Alright.” The judge nodded before he turned to the sink again.

As Lydia walked upstairs, every step made a God awful creaking sound, which was only more terrifying in such a dim light. She absently wondered when Jordan would be back down again, his green eyes smiling at her – then she pushed the thought away, she can’t afford to have these thoughts. Then again… she much preferred thinking that way then letting anxiety eat away at her. As she neared the drawing room door she paused, her heart sinking. She walked as quickly as her legs would carry her, which wasn’t fast, to the dining room and indeed only saw five figurines left atop the dining room table.

She walked back to the foyer, where the gong was, holding back the lump that rose in her throat. She hit the gong with the stick thrice and let the sound resonate off the walls of the house. They all met in the foyer and without a word followed Lydia to the drawing room and sure enough saw Satomi on her chair with something unidentifiable at first glance, sticking out of her neck.

“ _A bumblebee stung one and then there were five_.” Lydia concluded flatly.

 

* * *

 

Lydia watched from the door as Parrish and Hale lifted yet another dead body into a room.

“What stops McCall from helping out, huh?” Hale huffed as they lay Satomi’s body, sans spike, on top of her bed. Of course no one had an answer, there.

“I’ll um… think about lunch, with no Raekan…” Lydia began sadly.

Jordan leant across the body to cover the face with the bedsheet and lit a cigarette.

“I could eat a frickin horse right now.” Hale thought aloud.

“You could actually eat right now?” Lydia looked at him, astonished. Derek exhaled,

“It was heavy work, dealing with two bodies in one morning – you’re the one who suggested lunch.” He gestured to her from across the room in exasperation.

“Only because that’s what people do around this time of day, I myself couldn’t eat right now.”

Lydia was in no mood to appease anybody’s feelings. Derek was losing his patience,

“Hey!” he raised his voice but then whispered dangerously,

“I know what you’re trying to do. Don’t start implying, I had nothing to do with this.” They glared at each other for another moment until he turned to leave the room. But he stopped and turned around again,

“Just because I said I was hungry, I am! That doesn’t prove anything! Spending the morning clearing up guts! And you-“

He raised his voice to a shout until Jordan stepped in front of Lydia,

“Just calm down, Hale. Stop.” This was getting absurd. Derek panted heavily after his rant.

“You’ve got some front, Martin.” He jabbed an accusatory finger to her and finished with,

“I’m going to get dressed.” He gestured to his blooded robe and pyjamas before storming out the room.

Jordan looked to her tired eyes when Derek left. He put out his cigarette in the ash tray then neared her and gently placed his palms to her cheeks,

“Don’t go downstairs by yourself. And not with Hale either, after that I wouldn’t want you to be alone with him.” Jordan couldn’t fathom why he cared so much about her already but he did, and he meant what he said. She nodded through fresh tears and wrapped her arms around his waist for a brief moment. He broke away with one more glance at her,

“Wait up here for me.” he nodded to her with a determined frown set upon his features. She nodded faintly and with that he left to get dressed himself. He locked the door behind him and his eyes automatically fell onto his top drawer… which was open. He darted to the set of drawers and looked in every single one, even pulling out the first, and he was incredulous. His revolver had been taken.


	7. Feints and Restraints

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a late update! But hopefully you can forgive me! :) Here it is, hope you like it! Kudos, comments and Bookmarks all greatly appreciated!

“It was locked, the drawer was locked – which means,” Parrish emphasised,

“There’s gotta be some master key.” He finished and rubbed his forehead. Lydia mimicked the action unintentionally from siting on the staircase. Scott stood by the banisters and Deaton and Hale flanked where Jordan stood, all in the foyer.

“Raekan must have had a master key,” The Judge began,

“And you were dealing with the body!” Scott challenged to Parrish,

“And you were the one who found it, McCall!” Jordan shot back.

“I did nothing to Raekan, I didn’t take a master key, and how do we even know that there is a master key! AND we only have your word that your revolver’s been taken!” Scott raised his voice an octave after each breath.

“Why would I steal my own gun?” Jordan asked mildly incredulously.

“I don’t know why you’d do anything, Parrish – why you would kill Raekan or Miss Satomi or Stillinski!” Scott began to shout with the rise of his paranoia.

“I didn’t kill them.” Jordan said matter-of-factly.

“You would say that though, wouldn’t you?! Just like you could just say that your gun was taken!” Scott said, giving way to more paranoia. Jordan was really losing his patience and wasn’t a violent person but wanted to slap some sense into the doctor.

“You really are a first class, five star, solid gold fucking moron.” He sighed exasperated beyond belief.

“Please, the lady, hm?!” Argent reproached the quarrelling young men.

“McCall’s got a point. Why you would steal your own gun – it’s all riddles and games. It could just be a double bluff.” Hale opened his mouth for the first time since they were there and with that Jordan realised something…

“You were the last person down,” He began, initially puzzling all as all eyes fell on Hale.

“The last one. You were ages behind anyone else coming down, what took you so long?” Jordan stepped in closer to where Derek stood, arms folded.

“I don’t care to say.” He said evasively, which didn’t help his case at all.

“If you killed Raekan, you could have taken the master key – went to bed, made sure all of us were downstairs, then you could have gone into my room and taken my gun! You could have my gun.”

Jordan concluded and was inches from Hale now,

“I never touched Raekan and I don’t have any master key or your bloody gun!”

Derek said defensively. This was going nowhere, Lydia thought.

“Then what took you so long? Huh? If you weren’t going into my room and stealing my gun – what took you so long to come down when we discovered Raekan in the wood store?!” Parrish was going to get answer from him one way or another.

“I was in the bathroom! Alright! I was in the bathroom, constipated if you have to know!” Derek hollered and moments after, a strange and delirious laughter filled the room, starting with Lydia and Scott, then Argent tried to suppress a smile and as Jordan walked away from Derek he couldn’t help but smile and feel a little guilty for pushing him to that conclusion. Derek’s cheeks flushed of embarrassment,

“Sure, laugh it up. It wasn’t funny.” Which only made them all laugh harder.

“So it wasn’t me. It could have been any one of us. Any of us could have the key, any one of us could now have the gun.”

Everyone exchanged weary glances after coming down from their high.

“The only way we can be sure is to check each room.” Argent suggested. Seemed like a decent enough plan to all. They started search in Doctor McCall’s room as he stared by the door frame in nothing but a towel around his waist. Scott’s muscles were agitated, having his belongings strewn around.

“It’s not like your being singled out, we’re all getting searched.” Hale noted when he reappeared from Scott’s wardrobe. Next was Parrish’s turn. Lydia hoped her suddenly rosy cheeks and the slender flame burning deep in the pit of her stomach weren’t prominent at the sight of Jordan in nothing but a towel as he leant against his door frame, mute. She coughed and darted her eyes to the room and continued to search for the missing gun, which she didn’t believe Jordan stole himself, that would be absurd… though, everything seems to be nowadays since she set foot on Soldier Island.

“No key, no gun.” Hale sighed in exasperation.

“Like I said.” Parrish said deadpanned from the door frame, earning a glare from Hale before they moved onto the next room.

“Now you, Miss Martin.” Argent said as he rose from a nearby chair, needing the few minutes rest.

“Yes, of course.” She said quietly and peered up at Jordan as she passed him, still leaning on his door frame. She couldn’t read the look on his face as he glanced back at her. Curiosity, maybe? She wondered. Scott was still going through a jacket when people started to leave and Jordan, still hovering at the door, stared at him, frowning in bemusement.

“I’m just being thorough.” Scott claimed in a raspy voice as he accidentally brushed passed him leaving the room.

 

Lydia picked up her swimming costume, it was her favourite red one which she always used to wear… even that day so long ago…

“You love Uncle Aiden, don’t you?” Little Mathew said as he kicked about the sand.

“Yes, I do.” She smiled sweetly, following after him.

“Silly, girls are silly!” Mathew claimed making her chuckle as she went to hold his hand before setting up the picnic.

“If you marry him that will make you my aunt!” He said delightfully. He turned to smile at her and she agreed,

“What fun we’ll all have together when we have everything!” She brushed some sand away from Mathew’s face and looked out to the beautiful blue ocean…

Suddenly she was taken back to when she was drowning, suffocating on all the water and it’s pressure pushing down on her screams, muffling them when she screamed for Mathew…

She looked at her tired eyes in her reflection now wearing the costume again for the first time since that day… and that was the first time since her arrival at Soldier Island that she saw a hook protruding from her bedroom ceiling.

She hung by the doorway and couldn’t help but notice when Jordan wasn’t in the room, but before she could ask, Scott did,

“Why isn’t Parrish doing this?” Lydia raised her brows at the somewhat hypocrisy Scott’s sentence was tainted with.

“Well, Hale and I thought it was a good idea to separate you.” Argent didn’t mean to sound patronizing but it seemingly came across that way, even if it was for their own good. Lydia frowned and turned on her heels out of her room, about to look for him when he emerged from his bedroom, still in just a towel…

Lydia gasped and turned her back to him marginally. She needed a moment to collect herself, not liking being surprised at the sheer force of her feelings. She’d managed to stop herself before but it’s gotten stronger, like magnetism. Jordan’s pace matched that of his heart as he stepped toward her slowly, fastidiously. She slowly turned around to face him and their close proximity sent her heart into an erratic flutter. They stared deep into each other’s eyes, searching for something neither could pin point. Lydia couldn’t help herself but glance her eyes at his muscular torso as his towel hung low across his hips where his hands were. She wanted his hands on her in that moment.

She slowly untied the knot of her dressing gown and wanted Jordan to see her as she’s seen him. His initial confusion and caution had settled and now he just wanted her. She wrapped a hand around his neck and met his lips, it started slowly and sensually as he placed his hands on her waist hugging her in, sending shivers down her spine. After a minuet they broke away, knowing the others would be done searching soon, Jordan knew it wouldn’t have been Lydia. He placed his index finger under her chin gently as he stared into her hazel eyes, about to say something but the rustling and clattering in her bedroom stopped so they dropped each other’s embrace immediately and Lydia turned her back infinitesimally.

“Nothing,” Argent said from behind her back having emerged from her bedroom door.

“We search the rest of the house. Every single room, it can’t have vanished into thin air!” Derek mildly vented. He wanted to find that gun and fast. They all followed him as he sped off down the corridor. Lydia stole a glance at Jordan who smiled in assurance.

They searched every single room, every nook and cranny, everywhere they could think of – pulling out books, ripping off sofa cushions, moving around plant pots – but they came up empty handed. Finally it reached a point where they were all too starving to keep going and they lounged in the dining room eating the tinned food that remained, stealing weary glances at one another. Scott took a drag of his cigarette, Parrish a swig of his drink, while others ate, and they realised absently that they were seemingly all safe for a while, noticing there were still five soldier figurines on the dining room table. Perhaps safe wasn’t quite the right word… as the killer in the room knew exactly where the gun was, they knew exactly where they hid the key and the gun – lying in the mouth of the polar bear rug in the study…

 

* * *

 

The hours ticked by, they’d dressed themselves and could do nothing but wait. Lydia tried to think of ways that they could possibly escape, but the two obvious ways wouldn’t work – she thought about laying down sheets spelling ‘HELP’ in the hope of someone noticing but no one could be flying in this weather which was her second point failure, they couldn’t light a fire out in the sheeting rain.

“We can’t just sit here doing nothing.” Scott threw his arms up and broke the silence.

“And do what, McCall?” Hale said candidly.

“I don’t know! Light a fire on the headland to try to signal for help?!” He mirrored one of Lydia’s ideas.

“Not a chance in this weather.” Parrish signalled out the window to the black clouds and rain pellets, firing at the glass pane. Lydia rose from her seat, feeling parched.

“Where are you going?” Scott asked anxiously.

“To make tea, I would offer some but I doubt you’d drink it anyway, so wouldn’t wanna waste any.”

She said tiresomely, Parrish didn’t bother stifling his chuckle,

“Good for you, Lydia.” He loved sarcasm. He ignored the curious stares he received from some around the room, referring to her by her first name.

“What else are you bringing in?” Hale said suggestively. Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Well, I won’t bring a knife and I don’t have the gun – or don’t you get that already? _It’s. The. Poem._ It’s one by one in a certain way so I wouldn’t be killing you all at once now, would I? Or are you all just exceptionally unobservant? And where does it say on there about a gun?!” Lydia’s patience wore thin, sick of the accusations and she raised her voice to a shout. Parrish started applauding, clapping slowly as he chuckled,

“I’ll come with you.”

“No!” Hale countered venomously, earning a curious, raised brow from the Judge.

“No. we go singly or all together.” Hale explained. It seemed logical enough, and Jordan didn’t argue further, knowing that the killer was in the house so if he was watching them while she disappeared he’d know she was safe. That was his reasoning anyway, but he didn’t like the fact she’d be walking alone.

“Well I could use a coffee, why don’t we all go then?” Jordan said lightly. Each set of eyes looked around for confirmation and decided to comply. The weather seemingly worsened, they noticed as they ventured below-stairs. They sat around the staff dining table and Parrish remembered something he’d heard Hale say which sparked his curiosity now, and he wanted to ask the judge about it,

“I heard you were notorious for the black square, Judge Argent,” Jordan began and Derek shot him a look which he ignored.

“Well when it was appropriate, yes.” Argent said matter-of-factly.

“Hale told me you used to watch the executions you ordered, is that true?” Jordan was beginning to smell a rat and he wanted to put two and two together. After a moment to collect his thoughts to structure a sentence, Argent said,

“I had the power to condemn both men and women to their death for their crimes, albeit such terrible crimes that they must be punished in such a manner. And as the saying goes, with great power comes great responsibility. I believed that to look away when that power was indeed being exercised, was both foolish and cowardly, as well as irresponsible.” His features became morose.

“Did you watch Reed Schall hang?” Jordan pushed a little further as he calculated the information he was presented with. Before the Judge answered, Lydia recollected absently,

“I remember hearing about Reed... the papers said he was innocent…” she whispered as she looked up at Argent.

“He wasn’t. He left diaries in which was evidence not admissible to the court they presented such a warped, depraved mind. He believed his victims were full of filth and that he was cleansing the world of their stain… but they were innocent people... he would taunt the police with misdirection and clues it excited him.” Argent couldn’t finish, he wore a mask of disgust.

“He was guilty, you passed the right verdict. Why didn’t you go and see him… hang?” Hale asked curiously.

“I did.” Argent replied. All eyes were curiously trained on him now as he continued,

“It was different somehow, completely unsettling… he refused the hood… wanted me to see his face… perhaps to laugh at me.” Argent tried to remain clinical. You could hear a pin drop in the resonating silence.

“At justice, perhaps. It didn’t mean a thing to him… well it worked, he haunts me still…” Argent tried to relax his muscles after telling the story he hated most. His eyes tightened,

“But, justice came nevertheless – as it always does. And the world is free of his darkness.” Argent concluded, earning nods from around the room. They all went back upstairs again and made their way to the drawing room. Scott was beginning to lose it,

“We can’t just sit around doing nothing! This is absurd.” He claimed.

“Very well, Doctor. We did say singly or in a group. So I’m going to read. I’m sorry Doctor McCall, but your agitation tires me some.” Argent explained, as he turned around and walked in the opposite direction. Ordinarily, Lydia would find such a comment rather quite funny but she was emotionless. They all wandered into the drawing room, sans Argent, and lounged around – still waiting. Waiting to die, waiting to be rescued, waiting for a salvation that wouldn’t come. Scott took a drag from his cigarette as he pondered outside the window. Lydia was gazing absently out another window. Hale sat tirelessly on the sofa while Jordan paced around the room.

“’Justice came’. The killer and Argent seem to have common ground… the same thrill from handing out death…”

Jordan stopped pacing to say. Derek retorted lowly,

“You took the piss when I suggested the judge after you’d said it.”

“True, but think about it – how many people has he seen hang? What does that do to someone?” Jordan insisted, his instincts ticking. Something close to an epiphany lit Derek’s face from being deadpanned,

“He’s alone, he could be plotting anything.”

Lydia had had enough of all of this. Her only apparent escape being a few hours of sleep, if that.

“I’m going to bed,” She began. “Singly or in a group,” she repeated when she was glared at by Hale and McCall.

“You can watch me go up the stairs.” She rolled her eyes internally. She’d reached the third step when she noticed they all trailed her wake to the bottom of the stairs and watched her go up. Jordan knew in himself that he didn’t go because he thought she was plotting, but because he wanted to make sure no one was about to spring out somewhere to kill her as she was alone.

She walked up the stairs and each creak of the floorboard sent her heart aflutter, but out of fear – not the way Jordan made her heart flutter erratically… she thought of Jordan when she was enveloped in darkness, wanting to see that little ray of light in which was the feeling she had when she was around him. With a great clap of thunder, her candle blew out from the hiss of wind that blew through the corridor.

She frantically turned the doorknob and rushed inside flinging drawers open until she found a matchbox. Her eyes darted to each corner of the black room, the sensation of being watched creeping up on her. She reached her dressing table and found a box and as soon as she struck a match alight she could have sworn she’d seen another face in the mirror along with hers… and she screeched with all her might.

“Lydia?” Jordan’s voice was muffled, distant.

“Lydia? Hey!” His whispers became marginally clearer but she couldn’t find herself to answer. Jordan found himself gently shaking her.

“Here -” Scott began as he neared her limp form on the floor, but was interrupted.

“No!” Jordan whispered furiously.

“Oh for God’s sakes, Parrish. It’s ‘sal volatile’ smelling salts. Breathe slowly in the nose, out the mouth –“ Scott continued initially impatient but found his professionalism once more. He was cut off by Lydia abruptly bolting upright and gasping for air as if she’d been drowning.

“There we are.” Scott said clinically as he placed the salts back in his bag. Jordan grabbed her arm half to restrain her from flailing around.

“Are you ok?” Jordan asked when she’d settled and he let his arm fall.

“I… I thought there was somebody… in the room with me...” She said between her faltering breaths.

Derek emerged from the door with a glass of brandy in one hand a candle in the other.

“Here,” he said as he crouched beside her. She was dying of thirst but as she was about to take a sip she batted the glass away, stunning Hale. Jordan laughed for the second time today,

“Good for you, Lydia.” He chuckled.

“What? Do you think I’ve done something to it?” Hale said narrowing his eyes and he rose from his crouched position.

“One can never be too sure, especially after you made a point of it.” She replied between breaths which were becoming less shallow now. No need to mention he isn’t keeping with the poem.

“I’m gonna get a bottle that _hasn’t_ been opened.” Parrish suggested and whisked off out of the room. Lydia breathed deeply,

“I need to get some water.”

“This brandy’s fine. I didn’t do anything to it and it’s supposed to be good for shock.” Was Hale talking to himself? Lydia ignored them nevertheless, just wanting Jordan to come back, remembering his doubts on leaving her alone with them…

“He called her Lydia, again – that’s four times now.” Scott whispered fervently to Hale as Lydia rose steadily from the floor away from them. Hale frowned to McCall.

“I think there’s something going on between them!” His voice was hushed enough that it was only audible to Derek but he still darted his eyes around to check Miss Martin wasn’t quite in earshot. Before he could respond, Jordan returned waving around a fresh bottle,

“Sealed – therefor untampered with. No offence, Hale.”

“None taken.” He said flatly. He glanced around and saw the hook on the ceiling of her bedroom.

“What’s that for?” He asked idly. All eyes followed where his fell and saw the hook.

“I don’t know, a chandelier maybe?” Scott suggested.

“I’m not sure, possibly. Like downstairs.” Lydia agreed quietly. She had no idea what else it could be for.

“A chandelier? In a bedroom?” Jordan asked dubiously.

“Well that’s rich people for you isn’t it? Guess they’d put one anywhere. They’d probably put one in a pig sty if it suited.” Hale replied seriously, making all chuckle.

“I’m becoming fond of you, Hale.” Jordan pointed the bottle in his direction with his wit.

“Well you’re an ass – oh sorry, Miss Martin.” Hale said and gestured to Lydia who just laughed,

“No, you’re right! He’s an ass.” They all laughed while Jordan looked at her with a mock hurt expression. After a few moments of laughter the room fell silent again as Scott’s face fell.

“Where’s Argent?” He whispered to the room. They all hastily made their way to the judge’s room trying to find their way in the little light the candles and the moon provided.

“Oh Jesus.” Scott gasped at the sight of the Judge, in his chair. He was dressed as a judge with white wool atop his forehead and a red cloak of sorts draped over his lifeless body – with a bullet mark between his eyes and blood marking the wall behind him.

“He’s been shot in the head…” Scott stated obviously as he started removing his jacket.

“What are you doing?” Lydia asked.

“Well he’s gotta be wrapped if we’re gonna move him.” Scott explained.

“He’s right there, but don’t use your Jacket, McCall. I’ll find something else.” Parrish said before leaving to find something.

“Shot… are you sure?” Lydia said, it just didn’t make sense in the poem, but it’s not exactly clear…

_Five little soldier boys going in for law;_

_One got in Chancery and then there were four._

“Well of course I am, look at him!” Scott raised his voice slightly.

“We searched everywhere for that gun.” Derek whispered, completely dumbfounded.

After they placed the body on his own bed, Scott pulled the sheet up over his face and sighed. They all left the room silently and as Lydia shut the door to the Judge’s room behind her, people started pointing fingers again.

“You went back downstairs to get the bottle.” Derek pointed out.

“So did you! You got a glass of brandy!” Jordan said back incredulous, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, thinking.

“You disappeared off for a bit too.” He inherently asked Scott where he’d been.

“To get my bag so that I could tend to… _Lydia_.” He said her name with a slight malice in it, as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. Lydia narrowed her eyes, what is he trying to suggest there? She thought.

“We didn’t hear the shot, though.” Hale wondered aloud.

“You could’ve muffled the shot, with a cushion.” Parrish said using his basic knowledge.

“Well we’ll have to take your word for it Parrish, I’ve never shot a man, it seems to be in your field of expertise.” Scott said sardonically.

“How would I have had the time to go downstairs, grab a bottle of brandy, quickly have it out with Argent, making sure that _nobody_ heard it, _dress him up_ as - whatever it was - and make it back upstairs again?!”

Jordan laid it on thick, getting tired of all of this.

“ _Five little soldier boys going in for law; One got Chancery and then there were four.._. One by one… and in a particular way…” Scott recited, his voice seemingly faltering. Jordan rolled his eyes internally, _now_ he was following.

“And where’s my gun?!” he said in exasperation.

“Don’t look at me.” Hale frowned.

“Or me.” Scott added. A flicker of realisation lit Lydia’s eyes and she wandered downstairs, followed by the others, confused as to why she suddenly took off. She sat down at the dining room table, staring at the four soldier figurines that remained there. She took a moment to remember who had died, albeit strangers and possibly guilty, but still people who died. Who were murdered, callously.

Jordan sat opposite her and searched her eyes. What was she thinking? He wondered. The thunder rumbled relentlessly outside and the wind moaned unnervingly against the windows.

“I can’t stand the sound of that wind.” Scott muttered. When he hadn’t an answer he continued,

“I’m not just going to sit here and wait to die. I want to forget, for just one night. I want to drink ‘til I pass out…”

And in the hour after, lively jazz music was playing on the gramophone, resonating through the house, and everyone was laughing. Drinking, smoking, laughing – even drug taking in some cases, using up the stimulant that was once Jackson Whitmore’s.


End file.
